Confessions of a Chick in Paris

Confessions of a Chick in Paris

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The Princess and the Indian-Hobbit-Man

December 13, 2009 , , , , , , , , ,

Continuing on with my Indian travels from 2006: we traveled up high into the mountains, in a quest to see the  Dalai Lama. It was a spiritually awakening experience, but I’m pretty sure I don’t write a blog to be “spiritual”. So let’s get back to the freaks (which sometimes includes yours truly)…

In today’s installment, the freak-man came in the form of a party guest, as my parents decided to throw themselves a housewarming party. This was different from my visit in 1995, where all we did was squat at the abodes of various family and friends. But now my parents were rocking their very own vacation home, which they now visit once a year [’cause Florida doesn’t work as a winter escape for Indian people, since we aren’t good at swimming, and since women in bikinis are scandalous—and usually gross. Seriously, I’m wise enough to expose myself strategically, why not you?—Angry feminists, please exit my blog at the door on the right, because I don’t care, and ’cause I DON’T need to show off grossness to prove I love myself. Would rather take my cues from the super-hot women in Hollywood. Thanks.]

Hmm…I lost track somehow.

Oh yeah, I’m recalling the preparations for party night, which actually weren’t that hard…because of all the specialized servants.  Now my family isn’t rich by any means, but in India the dollar stretches far like a piece of chewed-up gum, it’s fabulous! I don’t find the variety or abundance of servants to be inappropriate (floor-sweeper servant, laundry-servant, dishwashing-servant, shirt-ironing servant), since “servantry” creates jobs, and the low cost of living allows for a comfortable existence.

OR I’m trying to prove that we weren’t really running a sweat-shop. Take your pick.

Once the preparations were made, I chose the appropriate jeans and casual shirt, along with the most complementary shade of eye shadow (I refused to wear Indian garb while in India for some odd reason, whereas now I am addicted to wearing saris in Toronto. Weird.).

And then came the guests. Before I get to”freak-man extraordinaire”, I must make one small confession of my own freakish ways.

It’s just that…one of the first guests had volumous hair, sparking white teeth, and symetrical features that would’ve put Mr. Jude Law to shame.

I was totally crushing.

Until five minutes later when I found out he’s my second-cousin.

Eww…I know. Look away I’m hideous.

On the other hand “to err is human”.

So please let’s keep on going.

Next the door opened and in came the neighbours. I immediately recognized the woman and her three-year-old daughter, as I’d met them before and the kid actually liked me! I liked her too because she named me “Barbie doll”, and when someone compares me to an unattainable ideal of the female form, I smile.

The one I’d never met before was the three-year-old’s father. I can only describe him as an “almost man” of hobbit height (four-feet eleven inches…I think). He also had the hobbit-trait of extremely hairy feet (Indian people don’t wear socks), though his ears didn’t point at the tips. I normally wouldn’t be so scathing in my physical assessment of another (ha), but due to his behaviour it’s entirely deserved.

It started with an instant glazing of his eyes as he looked in my direction. I can’t be sure what other type of glazing or bodily liquid came into play, but luckily I never found out. Next was his smile, revealing a set of jagged random teeth (random as in several missing here or there).

And then…he decided to talk to me. I was busy making paper airplanes for his daughter, and that’s when he took his moment to strike.

“I speak English very good.”

I awkwardly smile.

“I speak very good English.” He sits down next to me.

I do not acknowledge.

“I can speak so much English.” Our thighs make contact.

I REPEAT, thigh-contact. Or more accurately, “half thigh” contact, since his midget-leg was half the size of mine, and so he sat near the front of the couch seat.

Half-thigh harrassment or not, I was in no mood for unsavoury advances, particularly not from this hobbit who was raised on the shady end of The Shire.

So I totally ditched the kid (whatever, I’ll be nicer when I’m a mom), rushed through dinner, changed into my pajamas, and…started to watch TV.

With the meanest expression ever.

And no one in India ever messed with me again.

And neither would you…or would you?

Try me.

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comments

Yay! First comment!

David

December 14, 2009

Sorry I had to grab that while I could. Now let me go back and read your post again so I can come up with a DECENT comment.

David

December 14, 2009

I kinda feel sorry for the poor little hobbit dude. I mean why can’t trolls be allowed to drool over the Indo-Canadian Barbie Doll? As long as they don’t actually make any offensive contact. You Beauty Freaks just don’t get it some times.

And I would SO mess with you sitting there all pouty-faced pretending the watch the TV. But I’m not an Indian dwarf. I mean, maybe the guy just wanted to practice his “English” on you. With you. Whatever.

It’s OK Romi, I expect that in your heart of hearts you probably feel sorry for the trolls too, even if they’re creepy gross. And if not, well then that’s OK too.

It’s your thing
do what you wanna do …

David

December 14, 2009

I have never felt sorry for the trolls and never will. And YEAH, nice link! That was good for this afternoon 😉

Romi

December 23, 2009

OUCH.

signed,

Mr. Troll

David

December 24, 2009

you know whats now going on in my head? I’m the lord of the rings trilogy is now playing in my head… except for some reason, each character is playing by a well known Bollywood actor/acress. Its rather humorous…except for the scene where shahrukh Khan breaks into song while fighting the orcs…speadheaded by the devious Amitabh Bachen….

The Burg

December 14, 2009

hahaha….you just made me puke in my mouth by ruining LOTR in that way 😉

Romi

December 23, 2009

Ha…four foot eleven…hairy…Sounds like me! Ha, it was totally me rubbin up against your thighs, Romi…

Shweta

December 15, 2009

shut up you freak, I have seen your pics gorgeous girl!!!! 😉

Romi

December 23, 2009

Now, I believe I always wanted to do that: not half-thigh contact (although…), but to change into my pajamas, watch tv and cross my arms while guests were in the house. Oh yeah, I did… I guess that sums up several of my teen years.

duffboy

December 15, 2009

yes…I was and still do regress into teenage form 😉

Romi

December 23, 2009

Hi Romi, it’s Mabs, formerly known as JavaQueen – so good to be here! Love this! What a pig is all I can think to say! Right in front of his daughter. Jagged teeth? No spanks!

mabs

December 16, 2009

wow….good to see you again! 🙂

Romi

December 23, 2009

Oh, I’d definitely mess with you–though in a much more respectful manner, of course!

As for your second-cousin–why not? For me, it’s only gross if I’ve known the relative. And that’s really the cause (since humans are incestous, by nature, though subconciously). There was a study done with kibbutzim, in the Zionist State (“Israel”). Researchers discovered that people who had grown up in kibbutzim, though not related to one another, almost never married their kibbutzim peers. This finding supports the contemporary view that it is not relatedness, but familiarity that prevents incestuous relationships. In other words, I am not attracted to my mother or sisters, because I’m too familiar with them. But my aunt, as well as my female first cousins attract me, strongly, because they’ve hardly been a part of my life at all–I’m not really familiar with them.

Finally, Florida doesn’t work well for us Floridians, either–because of the climate! “The Sunshine State” label is a total lie, concocted obviously by merchants and realtors here. If anything this is “The Thunderstorm State”! To quote Barnes & Noble: “The state of Florida receives more lightning strikes than any other area of the United States.” Every year, especially in winter, thousands of Northerners come to Florida to escape the cold–only to have their vacations literally ruined by rain!

Scott

December 16, 2009

hahaha…”thunderstorm state”, that would be so much more fitting, from what I hear in the weather reports! 😉

Romi

December 23, 2009

Men must be very attracted to your thighs. Do you remember posting about the bus encounter a long time ago? (BTW, that was a really fun post too.)

Allison

December 18, 2009

hahaha…I do remember the thigh contact on the train! I think I wanted it then…as desperation dictates the reaction 😉

Romi

December 23, 2009

Ok, first thing is first. Did your second cousin have nice forearms? Just asking. Next, why are all the freaks drawn to you. “shady end of the Shire” – awesome phrase BTW LMAO. Great work once again.

Wiggy

December 18, 2009

OF COURSE he had nice forearms, who do you think you’re talking to? 😉 And thanks!

Romi

December 23, 2009

I think Wiggy’s question about the nice forearms is important. And the “sex” tag on this post is misleading! haha. Can I have your life? it is infinitely more interesting than my own!

rachelhamm

December 19, 2009

I am very mis-leading, haha…and my life is not that interesting, I’m just a writer so I make it that way 😉

Romi

December 23, 2009

I wouldn’t mess with you! (To answer your question.)

As much as this blog isn’t supposed to be spiritual and serious, a mountain climb to see the Dalai Lama sounds amazing.

Corra McFeydon

December 21, 2009

it was pretty amazing; he was inside for his thirty-days of prayer so he didn’t emerge, but was very cool to be in the presence of all that! 🙂

Romi

December 23, 2009

1 notes

  1. Gold and the Rickshaw Fatty…(and see you in 2010) « Romi reblogged this and added:

    […] « The Princess and the Indian-Hobbit-Man Gold and the Rickshaw Fatty…(and see you in 2010) December 23, 2009 No I did not […]

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